Masculine Connections Form One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Should We Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.